Off Course: The Delivery Boy and the Boy Savior
by Diaphanous
Summary: Sequel to The Delivery Boy Saga. Abandoned by fair-weather friends, Harry Potter lay dying upon his bedroom floor. Immortal and reluctantly retired, Cloud Strife had nothing else better to do with his time. They are brought together, for better or worse.
1. Heaven Help Me and Making Me A Fighter

**Off Course****: The Delivery Boy and the Boy Savior**

_**AN:**__ Okay guys… for those of you just now joining us, hi. _

_Lol. Now that being said, this can be considered a sequel to __Off Course: The Delivery Boy Saga__, which you can access through my profile. It's pure FFVII, so no HP whatsoever. If you don't feel like reading that, that's cool. We'll just go over the major points here in the first part, even though I highly recommend reading OC: DBS.__Just to assuage my ego and whatnot. _

_To make a long story short (lol, that's a good one…), this will be a HP/FFVII crossover! Ta-da! :crickets chirp: Yeah, okay. So anyway, if you're still reading this AN and haven't just skipped it, I've been overindulging in Harry Potter fics and HP crossovers. Now then, when I checked that particular section here on FFN, the list for HP/FFVII was woefully short and unsatisfying. Not to say that all of them were bad. I did like some of them… Moving on; I thought to myself (dangerous pastime, I daresay), why don't I take a crack at it! And also, free internet cookies for anyone who recognizes any of the titles! _:D

_So here's our favorite immortal Delivery Boy in his next adventure! _XD

000

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! Nothing, I say.

Non Crisis Core compliant. Non HBP/DH compliant (especially that awful Epilogue… If I wanted that kind of shit, I'd watch a Disney movie…) with references to certain plotlines.

WARNINGS: **Language**, character death, previous time-travel, inter-dimensional travel, swords and guns, gods, goddesses, aftermath of extreme child abuse (brief), gore, blood, torture (mentioned), angst, magic, mentorship, and, last but not least, twisted, twisted humor at inappropriate times.

And yes, I know that abused!Harry is cliché but let me have my fun.

000

**PROLOGUE**: **Heaven Help Me**

"Would you abandon him to his fate? Will he stand alone against this maelstrom?" a Goddess, whose name was lost to the humes of Ivalice, demanded of God. "Will you let another of your saviors suffer without hope?"

God turned away, hunched over. "What would you have me do, mine daughter? They are the ones who abandoned him. I cannot take away their free-will." The ultimate Deity clenched His hands. "This was not part of my plan. They were supposed to stick with him."

"Humans," the Goddess said in disgust," are so eager to turn away when faced with reality. Too few are those willing to stand up when others would cower. So much easier to fear and hate." The bitterness of Her own abandonment by Her worshipers colored Her voice. "Why even send them a savior to begin with? Why bother, Father?"

"Because there is still a chance for them," Minerva, the Goddess of Gaia, said in lieu of God. "We must give them a chance."

"And they squander it!" the Forgotten of Ivalice replied heatedly. "Over and over, they waste their chances. Look at my people! They turned away from me and my court to the Occuria. False beings and look you at their fates! No, humans aren't worth it." She slashed Her hand through the air in dismissal. "Nay, this boy savior is wasted on his people." The Goddess sank down onto her chair within God's solar, Her face held in Her hands.

"That is enough," God chastised. He looked at His daughters. "Minerva, do you have a suggestion?" He knew there was a reason why His eldest had jumped into the conversation.

"I might have one…" Minerva trailed off.

"Oh yes, your pet," the Forgotten spat. "What tune would you have him dance to now, I wonder?"

"It was his choices! Always has he had free will. What he chose to do just simple fell in with my plans."

"Until they fell apart and you had to have your Cetra send him back!"

"Quiet!" God glared at the Forgotten. "This is no longer your concern. Go back to your court and your world. Hope that your creations return to you." They watched as the Goddess huffed and stormed out of the solar. "Now then, speak your mind."

"Allow me to send Cloud Strife to your newest Chosen. He needs training and Cloud needs a purpose. He is at a crossroads. He can no longer hear Gaia; so let me go to him."

"You know it is not guaranteed that he will agree," God pointed out.

"One chance. Just one more chance, Father," the Goddess pleaded with wide blue eyes.

God smiled sadly. "Then go with my blessing, daughter. I hope that he says yes. I fear for young Harry; he does not have long before he breaks. Go." He waved her away. Minerva smiled and bowed. She swept out of the solar. God's shoulders slumped once more and turned to look into the scrying water. Tears gathered in His eyes at the image within the glowing depths "Oh my child, I will answer your pleas one way or another."

000

**CHAPTER ONE:**** MAKING ME A FIGHTER**

**PART ONE:** Not My Time To Go

A gentle breeze swirled in from the sea. Hair as golden as the sun swayed from it. Bright, glowing blue eyes stared out at the ocean in contemplation. The crashing sounds of the surf filled the air. The scent of brine and beach filled his nose. The immortal swordsman of Gaia was sitting on a rock along the edge of the shoreline.

Cloud Strife: hero, warrior, savior.

Time-traveler.

So many years had gone by since he had appeared in the past, changing everything that had once been in his own time. The apocalypse had been stopped before it had even started. Jenova vanquished. Hojo was six-feet under along with the old President Shin-ra. Rufus Shin-ra now ruled over the Floating City with a fair and just hand. Sephiroth wasn't insane and dead. Zack wasn't dead, period. Aeris was married to Rufus; which was shocking enough to make Cloud almost choke on his breakfast when he had received the invite to their wedding a couple of years ago. Hell, they had three kids now! Vincent wasn't torturing himself too much over his own past. And his younger self? Last Cloud had heard the Kid had gone on to be a SOLDIER and even had a fiancé. The future looked so bright compared to what would have happened and what did happen in the previous time-line.

It was a future that Cloud had no business being a part of despite his actions and his success.

So the older, immortal Cloud Strife locked himself away, isolated. Alone. It was reminiscent of those years just before Gaia had destroyed herself and he was sent back in time to prevent it. He had no purpose save but to wander the world like a ghost. Never staying in one place for too long. Never entering Midgar or Nibelheim. Just him, his motorcycle, First Tsurugi, and the road. The loneliness was all consuming. He missed traveling with a young, pre-cadet Zack. He missed Vincent's dry commentary when they had traveled together. He only talked to his bike and, well, motorcycles did not make good conversationalists to say the least. The blond mercenary was seriously thinking about Sephiroth's numerous and freakishly frequent offers to join SOLDIER. But despite all of the improvements under Rufus' presidency and Sephiroth's leadership, Cloud still had deep-seated personal issues concerning SOLDIER. With immortality came the inability to just forget what he had suffered when striving to be a SOLDIER.

"Goddess, I'm bored," Cloud muttered, hopping off of his perch.

"You called?" a lyrical voice said from behind him.

Cloud let out an unmanly squawk and whirled around, losing his footing and falling onto his ass. He stared with wide blue eyes at the glowing woman. His senses tingled from the power that emitted from her being in waves of pure white light. "Who are you?" he asked in awe and fear.

The glowing woman cocked her head to the side like a curious bird. "I am the Goddess," she answered. Her voice seemed to echo with a thousand others. "Do not be afraid."

"Is it finally my time?" Cloud wondered aloud. "Will I finally get to rest?" Hope warred with fear and the instinct to live no matter what.

"Is that what you wish?" the Goddess asked.

"I… I don't know."

"Is immortality so unbearable?" The Goddess sat upon the rock that Cloud had just stood up from, her armor melting away to reveal a simple white dress. "Speak from your heart, warrior."

Cloud sighed, puzzled over the fact that the deity before him wanted such honesty. "It's lonesome. Mountains would crumble and the world would end, again, and I would still live through it all." His brow furrowed. "Why have you come?"

"Usually one does not question a Goddess," Minerva said in amusement.

"Considering who I am and what I've witnessed, I guess I'm just a little bit reckless."

"Yes, this is so."

"Well?"

"Patience is a virtue…" the blonde deity murmured. She looked up from the sea to stare the man in the eye. "You are at a crossroads, warrior, and I have come to you with a proposition."

"What? Save the world again? I really ought to charge you if I have to do it a fourth time."

Minerva laughed; the sound like golden church bells. "No, this is already a savior chosen for this. But are you willing to at least listen?" She wondered.

"Sure thing, I have nothing else to lose."

"There is a child in dire need…"

000

Bloodied fingers scrambled and scratched helplessly at the hardwood floor. Slowly a pool of crimson surrounded and spread out further from the owner of the fingers into a shallow pool. Raspy, rattling breathing filled the stagnant air of the barren room. More blood spilled from the person's lips. The wounds burned from the chili pepper oil that had been poured onto them. Coughing and choking replaced the gurgling of labored breathing. Shadows and moonlight caressed the heaving, stained body through barred windows.

Harry Potter was dying.

Not from war. Not from old age. Not from disease. And not even Voldemort could claim the deed. Seemingly useless prayers for salvation slipped haltingly from his mouth and the young wizard wondered, even in his final moments, if anyone would really care beyond the fact that the Light had lost its weapon. He had no friends, fickle human beings that they were. He had no family worth claiming as his. In fact, it was by his family's hand that he lay upon his floor on his belly, gasping out his last breath. His right cheek was pressed against the wet floor. The boy let out a choked laugh, coughing harder. Harry should have known better than to believe that he finally had people to call his own. His friends, indeed.

And then a soft, white light gradually filled the blood-stained room.

Harry squinted, wishing unthinkingly for his glasses. He could make out a vague feminine shape dressed in white. There was something maternal about her, so achingly familiar. "Mother?" he croaked out, his lungs rattling from the effort of speaking. The wizard hacked up a glob of crimson, tears mixing with his blood.

The being smiled. "Not quite," she replied, her voice gentle. She leaned forward and let him see that her long hair was straight and golden. Her eyes were pale though Harry could not make out the color because of his poor eyesight. She held out a hand. "You have a choice, Harry, son of James, born of Lily. You can die and go to Heaven with the Father or you can come with me and live, flourish, and be free to become whatever you wish by your will."

His final seconds seemed to slow as he considered the offer.

"I want to live…" Harry trailed off, gasping and swallowing back the fresh bout of bloody coughs. He then sobbed, guilt wrangling with relief. "I want to live!" She smiled and touched a single finger to his forehead. A bright light flashed and filled the room. The wards surrounding number Four of Privet Drive finally collapsed from their weakened state. Alarms finally wailed from within Dumbledore's office, startling the old wizard.

Harry Potter disappeared.

000

**PART TWO: **I'm Lost

Cloud Strife was thoroughly disturbed at having a bloody mess thrust into his arms by an angry Goddess. He was thankful though that she had healed the more fatal wounds and internal bleeding. Still, the blond had been left with the task of cleaning the boy wizard. It appeared it was going to be an unpleasant task. Especially since, according to his superior sense of smell, liquid chili peppers seemed to have been poured all over the kid. What kind of sick fuck does that shit to a child?

"Aw hell, we've got our work cut out for us, kid," Cloud muttered to the sleeping wizard, glad that the sleep was magically induced and would make his task easier for them both. The swordsman sighed and carried his delicate bundle into the spare bedroom and adjoining bath. He didn't like the fact that the Goddess had made him get a house but he could see the benefits. This young man needed a stable home for once and Cloud was willing to provide.

Slowly and gently, Cloud peeled away what was left of the boy wizard's clothes and grimaced at both the fresh and older scars that he could see beneath the blood. The blond muttered curses and death threats under his breath as he began the time-consuming process of sponging off the chili pepper oil and blood. He flinched with each unconscious whimper that the sponge drew from young Harry. But he had no choice but to thoroughly clean each external wound of that horrid, burning oil. The Goddess had only healed enough of the wounds to make sure that the boy wouldn't die. She didn't do it on purpose but even for a deity of her caliber, dimension hopping was exhausting.

This was going to take a while, that was for sure.

000

Soft.

Warm.

Safe.

Harry slowly woke, confused over why he was laying on something so pleasant. Like clouds and feathers. The covers of this strange and wonderful bed were pulled up to his chin. The scent surrounding him did not reflect an infirmary but rather like fresh laundry that had been washed in lavender and dried in the sun. The wizard struggled to sit up. The blankets pooled around his too-thin waist. He shivered, finally realizing that he was starkers. A blush crept onto his cheeks and shimmied down all the way to his chest. Even the tips of his ears were pinked in his embarrassment.

But who? And where?

The boy blinked as memories floated to the forefront of his mind. Was he rescued by a god? He shook his head. What was going on? He didn't understand. Harry's head jerked up as the door he was facing opened.

Hair as golden as the sun and spiked up oddly topped the person's head. Bright blue eyes that seemed to be literally glowing stared at him. And the man's mouth curved slightly at the corners into an almost smile. "Good, you're finally awake," he said, his voice smooth, kind. He sauntered into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Confused."

The blond man laughed. "I bet, kid." He eyed the boy. "My name is Cloud Strife."

"Harry Potter," the wizard said without thought.

"I know." More confusion clouded Harry's face. Cloud himself decided to clarify. "The woman who brought you to me, she said that your name was Harry Potter. I'm here to help you."

"Help me?"

"There an echo in here?"

Torn between laughter and puzzlement, Harry shook his head. "Why am I here?" he asked.

"Silly," Cloud said. He pulled out a chair from the little writing desk that was sitting in the corner and sat down. "You're here because you chose to be here. It's about time you were given choices."

"Didn't seem like much of a choice…"

"Nonsense; you could have chosen eternal rest and left the Wizarding Britain to rot."

"You know about wizards?" Harry's voice was high-pitched from his incredulous panic.

The blond frowned and raised his eyebrows. "How else am I supposed to help you if I don't know what you are?" he wondered. "Don't worry; there aren't any laws here that will punish me for knowing about wizards." At this point Cloud grinned in full. "Besides, here on Gaia, wizards and witches specifically don't exist. Anyone can use magic with the proper resources and the will to use them."

Harry was gapping.

"You trying to catch flies? If you wanted some protein, you could have just asked."

"B… but? Just where am I?"

"You're on Gaia. I didn't stutter. Listen, kid--"

"Harry."

"Yeah, Harry. Listen, the woman that came for you, she's a Goddess. She brought you to me and my world so that I could teach you. Or did you forget about the prayers you sent up in your time of dying?"

Harry averted his emerald green eyes. "I didn't think they would be answered…" he replied softly.

"Oh Harry…" Cloud reached out and placed a gentle hand over the boy's clenched fist, the sheets bunched up under the youth's slender fingers. "It all depends on the needs of the one praying and what you were praying for at the time. You wanted it to end, so it ended. Just not in the way that you thought." The warrior awkwardly patted that small hand and pulled away. "Now then, do you have any more questions before I go downstairs to make some lunch?"

At the mention of food, Harry stomach growled loudly. The wizard blushed as Cloud chuckled. "Umm… You said teach. What is it that you're going to teach me?" he asked. The blond man raised his eyebrows again as he stood.

"That is up to you."

000

Food was quickly brought into the bedroom on a pair of dinner trays. Lunch time itself, for the most part, was a silent affair with ham sandwiches on rye with a mild cheddar cheese slice and crisps. Harry was given a mineral water whilst Cloud was drinking mango juice. All too soon the food was gone and the wizard had surprisingly eaten more than one sandwich. He fiddled with his napkin and then looked up after taking a deep breath.

"Umm… Mr. Strife?"

"It's just Cloud. Every time I hear 'Mr. Strife', I expect to be in trouble," Cloud said in an effort to put his charge at ease.

"Okay." Harry started to nervously rip his paper napkin into tiny pieces, dropping said pieces onto his tray. "Am I going to stay on Gaia for the rest of my life?"

Cloud blinked in surprise at the question. He set down his juice. "Do you want to stay that long?" he replied.

The wizard scowled at him. "Don't answer a question with another, Cloud." He looked at the blond in consternation when the older man laughed.

"Take it easy." Bright blue eyes crinkled at the corners, the smile in them making the glow more pronounced. "And I can't answer your question. It's your choice what you want to do." He leaned back into his seat. "You'll have to think on it and, in the mean time, we'll work together to get you healthier before we get to the main events. After all, you've been beaten and starved for goodness knows how long. And no, don't be embarrassed that I know. You should be angry at the people that done these things to you. And at the people who've let this continue on, turning a blind eye." Harry hunched over in an effort to disappear. Cloud mercifully let it drop. "Anyway, I might as well update you."

"Update me on what?" Harry asked, eagerly taking the out being offered to him.

"Your status, Harry." Cloud eyed his charge and smiled softly. "Well, you were brought to me six days ago…"

"Six days?"

"Don't interrupt."

"Sorry…"

"Anyway, it's been six days since your arrival. You were a right mess, kiddo. Remind me later to kill your relatives slowly and painfully."

Harry gasped. "You can't!" he cried.

Cloud huffed. "The hell I can't." He leaned forward to put strength into his words. "You were tortured, plain and simple. Lashings? Knife damage? Chili pepper oil in open wounds? And then left to stew in your own juices and dying? No, your so-called guardians have a lot to answer for, I assure you."

"But they're--"

"Monsters!" Cloud interrupted. "And if it's not me, God and the Goddess will see to them in the afterlife. Either way, there will be justice."

Tears gathered in the young teen's eyes. He bowed his head in a bid to hide his tears. Drops of salty water slid down his face and dripped onto his lunch tray that rested on his thighs.

"Aw hell," the blond muttered. "Don't cry, Harry. I'll promise not to touch the fuckers unless you want it."

"It's not that!" Harry wailed suddenly. "No one's ever… cared except for Sirius! And even then I was just a replacement for my father! I'm so tired…" Cloud scrambled to remove the tray as the boy started to weep in earnest, burying his thin face in his two hands. The blond set both trays onto the floor and he gingerly sat at the edge of the bed. He gathered the wizard into his arms and let him cry.

"I've got you now, Harry. You're safe with me. Shh…"

000

**PART THREE: **This Song of Hope

Harry stood at the cliff's edge, staring out at the waves crashing and roaring against the rocks that stretched out from the sheer rock wall. A fresh breeze blew in from the sea. His hair and clothes ruffled in the air. Bright green eyes, unhindered by hideous glasses, blinked and he looked over his shoulder when he sensed his guardian climb up the slope that led to his position. He turned back to the sea as Cloud strode up to stand next to him.

"You're looking better," Cloud said.

"It's been three weeks," Harry replied. "What now?"

"Up to you, I suppose. Do you still want to go back to your world?"

"I need to finish what Voldemort started."

"Who are you doing it for?"

The wizard smiled bitterly. "For my parents, I suppose." He shrugged.

"And?" Cloud prompted.

"And for myself…" Harry huffed. "But I'm not strong enough! Sure I've healed but now what?" He looked up at the blond swordsman. "Will you teach me?" Cloud smile was slow and full of satisfaction. His glowing blue eyes crinkled at the corners.

"I thought you'd never ask."

000

Cloud was a slave driver.

Harry puffed out the word 'bastard' and continued his run, the blond man hustling him from behind. He was thankful that the older man did not push him too hard. Instead the sword wielder gradually built up the wizard's stamina through running like he was now and other physical exercises. Harry did enjoy the yoga and the Tai Chi though. It was through those two disciplines that the boy finally learned how to meditate if only in short bursts. His awareness expanded beyond himself and to the environment that surrounded him. He was introduced to a multitude of weapons though he favored blades and guns over staves and spears. And all the while, Cloud was with him every step of the way. Through temper tantrums and crying fits and guilt trips of epic proportions that only a teenager could achieve. Through the grief for Sirius and what might have been and the what-ifs that plagued Harry.

It was during these sessions that Harry found out the truth about Cloud…

An apocalypse. Time-travel. Being separate from his other self. Saving the world a third time. The loneliness. The despair of knowing that he had no place in this new future.

It made Harry want to cry some more. He couldn't believe how many tears he had left in his body after all that he had been through in his short lifetime. But he knew that Cloud did not want tears on his behalf. What Cloud wanted was for Harry to get stronger, more confident. To take back his Gryffindor boldness and to be his best. Yet, at the same time, to cultivate his hidden Slytherin tendencies, his cunning and his resourcefulness. His ability to roll with the punches, to bend but not break. At first he cringed at the thought until Cloud had lightly bonked him on the head and wondered aloud, seemingly to himself and the air, if Harry was going to waste all of his efforts by becoming a trumped up martyr for those who had so willingly abandoned him beforehand. Talk about a wake-up call.

"Hey! Stop daydreaming!" Cloud barked. "We're almost back home; so move it!"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said cheekily. He laughed at the mock growl thrown his way and he hurried off for the cottage.

So what if Harry had to go back to the Magical World back on Earth? That wasn't home anymore; if it ever was.

Home was on this tropical island with the roaring sea and the salty air. Home was in the cottage nestled amongst the trees. Home was with the Chocobos in the stable.

Home was with Cloud.

000

'Son of a bitch,' Harry thought to himself. He ducked and rolled away from Cloud's blade and then all thought dissolved from Harry's head as that sharp weapon came for his head a second time. Sword training was not that it was cracked up to be. This was no fantasy where Harry could just wield a sword with only a single and extremely luck driven experience beneath his belt. Finally he managed to block, the ringing of steel meeting steel echoing through the air. His arms quivered from the hit and the strain of to trying to hold the position. And this was Cloud holding back… Merlin help him if the man decided to go all out. Now if only he could find a way to get out from under Cloud's blade with his own still in hand and without more injury.

"I can keep this up all day," Cloud said cheerfully. He hadn't even broken a sweat while Harry was literally dripping from his perspiration.

"I can't," Harry gasped through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Then he stumbled forward a little when Cloud immediately back away. The green-eyed wizard fell to his knees panting.

"You're getting better," the swordsman said. "Seven minutes against me, well done."

Harry let out a laugh through his panting. "I'll say. Merlin, you're strong." He used the training sword as a crutch, hauling himself to his feet. He swayed dangerously and Cloud hurried over to steady him. "Thanks."

"Easy does it, Harry," Cloud murmured. "Just breathe slowly now." His instructions were followed by the wizard and he grew steadier under the blond's gentle hand. Once Cloud was sure that Harry could stand without falling over, he plunged the tip of his sword into the ground straight up and went over to fetch their water bottles. "Here, drink but not too fast."

"Yes, mother," Harry snarked playfully.

"Quiet, you goof."

"Do you think I'll be ready by the time it comes for me to go to school?"

Cloud fiddled with his water bottle. "I don't know," he murmured in answer. "I'm worried that you'll fall back into bad habits and let those people walk all over you."

Harry acknowledged the truth of it with a nod. "Will you come with me?" he suddenly asked with a blush. "To keep me in line or whatever…"

"Of course I'm coming with you! Awfully irresponsible of me to leave you half trained." Cloud patted Harry's shoulder. "I won't leave you, kiddo."

"But the cottage and the Chocobos!"

"Bah, they'll be fine. The Chocobos have the ability to cross water to island hop in the isle chain for food. And don't worry about the cottage. It'll be here until we come back home."

"Back home… I like the sound of that," Harry said wistfully.

Cloud smiled softly. "Yeah, me too. Home, I haven't had one for a long time until you came." He chuckled and gave a friendly slap to the wizard's back. "Come on, let's jog for a cool down before you seize up and cry like a girl."

"Hey! That was the one time, you jerk!"

000

In three days it was to be September First, back on Earth. It was still late June on Gaia.

"I think we're going to walk right into a war-zone," Harry said as they sat down for one last supper on Gaia before their departure with the Goddess.

Cloud paused in serving himself some mashed potatoes. "Oh?" he replied nonchalantly. He scooped more onto his plate and then went for the green beans, offering the potatoes to Harry.

"Interrogations? Nagging former friends? Meddling, manipulative old farts? A grieving werewolf who probably won't let me out of his sight anytime soon? Ringing any bells yet?" Harry took the bowl and served himself, mixing it with some gravy.

"What? You scared?" The older swordsman started slicing up his steak.

"No! Just irritated that I'm going to have to put up with it."

"Such a girl." Cloud teased.

"Am not!" Harry retorted with a bright blush.

The blond man laughed. "Easy, kiddo. Ain't nothing wrong with being sensitive." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "Girls like that."

"Pft. Girls are a waste of my time right now. Got a war to win."

"True enough." They slowly ate, each lost in their thoughts. Mechanically they cleaned up and put the dishes away. There was an awkward pause as they stood in the kitchen.

"I don't want to go," Harry said to break the silence. "But my duty…" _My destiny_ was left unsaid.

"Duty is a terrible thing." Cloud led the way into the living room. "Heavy, isn't it? Must fight for the people. Got to kill the bad guy. Have to save the world." He motioned for Harry to sit on the couch as he took to the recliner. "Saviors carry a burden other people can't hope to understand. You have to be the hero because everyone else is too weak and cowardly to stand on their own. They don't have the strength, the will. We are chosen for a reason. Made to go through trials and battles that would break them or make them."

"Cloud…"

"I broke several times. But I kept getting back up." Cloud looked at Harry with old, shadowed eyes. "You were broken, Harry. But like me, you got back up. You put yourself back together. And that's the difference. That's why you were chosen as a savior."

"But I have to die in the end," Harry said, touching his curse scar. "The Horcruxes…"

Cloud smiled. "Oh, the Goddess is going to take care of that when she comes for us," he said in reference to his scar. "Though I am glad that she came to tell you about those things."

"You'll search for them then? While I'm at school?"

"Yeah, I'll get the ones outside of Hogwarts."

"What about the cup?"

"Goblins can't stop Goddesses, Harry."

"Awful lot of celestial intervention…"

Cloud shrugged. "It makes Her feel better, so who am I to stop the Minerva?" he wondered. "Besides, She's only taking care of two, the cup and your big forehead."

"I do not have a big forehead!"

"You're right." The blond paused dramatically and then smirked. "It's a five-head," he said blithely.

"IT'S NOT THAT BIG!"

The rest of the evening was spent in laughter.

000

**END OF CHAPTER ONE**


	2. Let The Dark Waltz Begin

**Off Course****: The Delivery Boy and the Boy Savior**

_**AN:**__ Okay guys… for those of you just now joining us, hi._

_Welcome back for the next chapter of OC: DBatBS! Yay! XD Geez, I've forgotten how tiring it is writing such long stories… I miss drabbles and one-shots. Lol. Anyway, let's get this show on the road! Lala, I love exclamation points!_

_Also there's one more chapter after this with an epilogue._

_Oh! And to really expose my nerd-dom, I Googled the month of September during 1995. Lol._

000

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! Nothing, I say.

Non Crisis Core compliant. Non HBP/DH compliant (especially that awful Epilogue… If I wanted that kind of shit, I'd watch a Disney movie…) with references to certain plotlines.

WARNINGS: **Language**, character death, previous time-travel, inter-dimensional travel, swords and guns, gods, goddesses, aftermath of extreme child abuse (brief), violence, gore, blood, torture (mentioned), angst, magic, mentorship, and, last but not least, twisted, twisted humor at inappropriate times.

000

**CHAPTER TWO:**** Let The Dark Waltz Begin**

**PART ONE: **All The Hand-Me-Downs

Harry rubbed his sore forehead, glaring banefully at the Goddess who was arguing with a goblin. The three of them, Harry, Cloud, and the deity called Minerva, were in a private conference room in Gringotts. The wizard of the strange trio was seriously contemplating shooting the goblin in the face with his Quicksilver. Finally the goblin grumbled but gave-in, escorting the Goddess out. Two guards hustled in as they exited, to stand on either side of the door within the room. Harry and Cloud looked at one another with raised eyebrows and shrugged in unison. They proceeded to speak in Wutainese to mess with them. And to keep their conversation private.

"They put up an awful fight for one cup. You'd think they'd be all over themselves to satisfy Her every whim," Cloud commented.

"You have to remember that these are goblins and no-one usually has the bollocks to just skip into another's vault." Harry shrugged at the question. "Except for Voldemort," he tacked on with a smirk on his lips. "But he's quite mad."

"Too bad he didn't get eaten by the dragons you say the goblins have for security."

"Quite."

The two males went silent when their Goddess reentered the room, a velvet bag clutched in Her hand. They stood up and watched as She gave the manager a gift, a diamond the size of a grown man's torso floating in the air. The goblin looked flabbergasted, which to other beings it looked like he had constipation. The gem slowly floated down onto the floor. The Goddess cocked her head smugly and motioned for the two Chosen to follow her. They quickly exited the bank and into an empty side alley right by the white marble building.

"Nicely done, my Goddess," Cloud said with laughter in his blue eyes.

"I thought you'd like that," Minerva replied. She held out her hand and the velvet bag holding the Horcrux chalice hovered over her up-raised palm. A small flash of light and both bag and cup disintegrated. She looked at her two companions. "The rest of them are yours to destroy. Good luck." She silently disappeared without any theatrics.

000

Today was Friday, September First, the year 1995.

Kings' Cross was a bustling hub of people and noise. Curly haired Harry James Potter was following closely at his mentor's back in an effort to shield himself from the crowds. Cloud allowed the invasion of his personal space. He plowed his way through the people. The teen wizard was dressed in a short-sleeved, black silk shirt with a crimson dragon embroidered on the back of it. The dragon was like the ones on an old European-style coat of arms, reared up on its back legs and frozen in mid-roar with its wings flared out. His black denim jeans outlined the lean, still developing muscles of his long legs. Black trainers completed his dark ensemble. A black leather carry-on was pressed against his thigh, his fingers trapping the strap to his shoulder. He was oblivious to the admiring looks that girls and boys alike shot him. Of course, his mentor attracted just as many looks dressed in a sleeveless, black SOLDIER issue sweater and light blue denims with black combat boots. His heavy but streamlined muscles flowed smoothly beneath his skin as he walked with Harry trailing behind him. Finally they made it through the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten. Cloud immediately pulled his charge into the shadows.

"Got your trunk?"

Harry touched the necklace at his collarbone, the shrunken trunk at the hollow of his throat. "Yep," he said.

"Sword?"

A shrunken blade swung from the silver bracelet on his left wrist. "Got it," the teen replied.

"Gun?"

Harry gestured toward the small of his back where the holster held his Quicksilver. "Of course." He grinned.

"Back-up weapons?"

"In my trunk's hidden compartments."

"Wand?"

"Wrist holster," Harry answered, waving his right arm.

"Sword and gun cleaning kits?"

"Cloud!" Harry exclaimed in exasperation. "You helped me pack, remember?"

"Just triple checking," Cloud grumbled. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Your shields are up?" He was talking of Occulmency.

"Definitely."

"And you thanked Minerva for teaching you?"

"Already did. She waved it off and said I needed it."

"Okay." Cloud huffed. "Okay." He awkwardly patted Harry's shoulder and dropped his hand away. "Best get going, kiddo. Train to catch."

"I'll miss you, Cloud."

Cloud smiled softly. "I'll miss you too. Send your owl to me when you write." He ruffled those wild curls, laughing at Harry's irritated swipe. He grunted in surprise when his apprentice threw an unexpected hug around his waist. The blond hugged back and then untangled those growing limbs from his torso. "I'll see you at Yule?"

"You bet! I'll sneak out." Harry's face creased into a sly expression. "I'm naughty like that."

The older swordsman lightly cuffed the back of Harry's ear. "Go on, get," he said gruffly.

Harry laughed and hurried off toward the bright red train. He turned one last time, waved, received Cloud's wave in return, and then disappeared amongst the throng of students and parents. Cloud smiled one last time and turned around himself. He exited the magical platform. His expression hardened, making a Muggle scurry off in fear.

The hunt for the last of the Horcruxes was on.

One active Horcrux was at Hogwarts and Harry would take care of that one. And according to the Goddess, Dumbledore was suffering from the destruction of the ring. And Tom Riddle's diary had been destroyed by Harry four years ago. That meant that two more was still out there: the locket and Nagini.

The locket and Nagini were Cloud's pleasure to destroy.

Ultimately, Voldemort belonged to Harry once the remaining Horcruxes were destroyed.

000

**PART TWO: **Doesn't Owe You A Thing

Harry quickly ducked into the back compartment at the end of the train, slamming the door closed behind him. With a flick of his wand, he locked it and then sank down onto the seat. He glanced out the window only to widen his eyes in surprise. The young wizard scrambled to open the window. Hedwig, his errant owl who had obviously evaded the Order and his relatives, swooped it. She started beating at him with her wings and talons, barking in irritation.

"Ah! Sorry, sorry!" Harry grunted as his owl took one last shot at him and then perched herself onto the cushioned bench opposite of him. Her bright yellow eyes were filled with silent reprimands. "Hiya, Hedwig. Have a good summer?" The owl did her version of a huff and ruffled her feathers as an answer. "Okay. It is good to see you again, girl. You're as lovely as ever." The wizard laughed when she spread her wings, turned around, and farted at him. "Ew, Hedwig. That'll teach me." The snowy owl hopped around again to face him and started to preen and clean her feathers. Harry smiled and closed his window, conjuring up some curtains to block out anyone from looking in from the platform.

The train blew its whistle as a last call for boarding. He was silent when someone rattled the handle for his compartment. Relief flushed through him when the person on the other side gave up and moved on. Quickly he added more locking charms, weaving them into an intricate ward with a silencing spell and a subtle version of the Notice-Me-Not that the Goddess had taught him. Harry had no desire to have his so-called friends barging in and inflicting themselves onto his person for the entire train ride. After everything, they had blamed their actions and injuries on him from the Department of Mysteries incident at the end of the previous school year; right before Hogwarts was let out. Never mind the fact that they had followed of their free will, even though he told them not to come. Only Neville and Luna hadn't blamed him; not that they contacted him either before his disappearance.

Harry had been dying and no one had cared.

A coo interrupted his morose thoughts. Harry looked up when Hedwig fluttered onto his lap. The young wizard began to pet her, taking comfort in the repetitive motion of stroking soft, white feathers. He leaned back and sighed. He hummed the theme from the Loveless play from back home. His viridian eyes fell to half-mast as he sunk deep into his mind. He reveled in the feeling of freedom. The connection between him and Voldemort, powered by the Horcrux in his scar, had been severed by the Goddess. His forehead was clear of any blemish, magical or hormonal. No pimples, no scar. He was healthy as he could be, considering his life-long malnutrition. His belly was full from breakfast and he had a packed lunch in his carry-on. With the spells and wards he had placed, he knew that the trolley lady would skip him without thought. Not that he minded. Muscles were developing like they should, proper diet and exercise during those months with Cloud paid off. He had studied and finished his summer homework. Snape was going to choke when he saw it. Harry grinned.

All Harry had to do was survive this year and destroy Ravenclaw's Diadem. He also had to evade Dumbledore, all of the Gryffindors (especially the last two Weasleys and Granger), the Hogwarts staff, Malfoy and his cronies, his fan-people (no easy feat there), and definitely the new Defense teacher, whoever that was this year. Merlin only knows what kind of person that was, probably another idiot who either wants to take advantage of Harry's fame or use Harry for whatever reason or just to kill him. It was a long list but Harry would see it done. He had to see it done. The teen hoped to the Goddess that he didn't accidently kill someone for irritating him. Where would he hide all of the bodies if he did that?

Harry sighed softly and continued his meditation. Strengthening his mind shields and preparing for the questions that would be shrieked at him from all sides.

The sun slowly set in the west.

Night fell across the heavens.

The train finally pulled into the Hogsmeade station, Hagrid calling out for First Years. Hedwig flew off toward the Owlry. The older students scrambled toward the carriages pulled by the Thestrals. Harry blended into the crowd and slipped into a carriage that held several Hufflepuff Second Years, who stared at him with wide eyes. He grinned at them He was reminded of puppies and kitties. The older wizard teen settled into the seat next to an awestruck girl. He chatted quietly about the upcoming feast and slowly they relaxed and were all giggles and squeals. Harry always did enjoy being with the younger students.

Hogwarts shone with hundreds of lights on top of the hill above the Black Lake.

Showtime.

000

Glares were concentrated at Harry's direction from his ex-friends. The Boy Savior quickly surrounded himself with Second and Third Year Gryffindors, shamelessly using them as a barrier from Hermione, Ron, and Ginny. He didn't owe them a damned thing and he wasn't to subject himself to them just yet. He had every intention of enjoying the Sorting for once and stuffing his face full of treacle tart for pudding. He had managed to dodge Snape from snatching him before the Sorting since he had saw the man eyeing the returning students. People really were so obvious. Anyway, McGonagall marched into the Great Hall. A trail of about forty to forty-five Firsties followed behind her like a row of ducklings.

"Beckett, Holly!" the Deputy Headmistress called out after another song that expounded on the need to unite. Pft, like that was going to happen. A small girl with big blue eyes and curly blond hair bounced up and sat on the stool.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Sorting Hat roared.

Thus the Sorting began in earnest.

Gryffindor got thirteen of the new First Years and Harry had clapped for each one. He welcomed them as they sat by the Second Years. Their shy smiles were worth it. Harry quickly memorized their names and offered help for whenever they needed it. The Defense teacher was introduced and welcomed wanly. Dumbledore gave a speech about the Greater Good, unity within Hogwarts, and fighting against the Dark, pointedly staring at Harry who wasn't really paying attention. And then the food appeared on the tables.

The older Gryffindor helped serve the Firsties their food, chatting with them and loading their plates with meats, starches, and vegetables. He had been doing this for First Years in the past two years. He kept an eye out for ones who looked half-starved, knowing in a way they were just like him. He would laugh at jokes; pat the ones closest to him on the back. He would listen carefully when they spoke with his intense gaze concentrated on whoever was speaking at the time.

The Second and Third Years smiled happily at him, recognizing his actions. They briefly wished that Harry was the Sixth Year Prefect instead of Ronald Weasley. Children had a way of knowing when someone didn't care; as was evidenced by the loud redhead complaining about Harry ignoring his friends and stuffing his gob full of food, spitting morsels as he ate and spoke at the same time. He hadn't even looked at the First Years and neither did the other Sixth Year Prefect, Hermione Granger. The Fifth Year Prefects were no better. Colin Creevy and Ginny Weasley had duly ignored them right after the Sorting as well. The Seventh Years were already talking and stressing about NEWTs, so they were forgiven. The Head Boy and Head Girl were from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, respectively. All in all, Harry spent the Feast with the younger students of his House.

And just as pudding was served, McGonagall tried to sneak up from behind him.

"Hi, Professor!" Harry said cheerily, turning to look up at her. He suppressed his smirk at the brief surprise that flashed across her face before she schooled it into blankness. The younger Years surrounding him watched with wary eyes, hoping their Senior wouldn't be escorted away from the table. They knew, however, that their hope was in vain. The First Years looked upset when the professor spoke her damning words.

"Mr. Potter, the Headmaster would like to speak with you," the witch said, peering over her square spectacles with disapproval.

"May I ask why?" Harry inquired coolly.

"A private matter, Mr. Potter."

"Surely this can wait."

McGonagall's lips thinned in irritation. "Mr. Potter, now," she hissed like the cat that she transformed into as an Animagus.

"I would like to finish my pudding," Harry retorted with a wave toward his treacle tart. "Surely I am allowed to finish eating, yes?"

This time, flared nostrils accompanied her thinned lips. "I will not ask you again, young man, or I will take points from Gryffindor," McGonagall snapped.

Harry pursed his lips at her and stood up. He turned toward his upset underclassmen and clucked his tongue at them. "Come now, no frowning. After all, it wouldn't be a proper start to the year without me being sent to the Headmaster's office during the Beginning Year Feast." He grinned cheekily at them. "I'll see you lot in the Common Room." Harry stepped over the bench to stand by the irate older witch. He gestured toward the Great Hall doors. "Please, Professor, lead the way."

"Hmph!" McGonagall stomped out, making sure that her student was following. They entered the hall and started the trek to the Headmaster's office.

From behind the witch, Harry grinned wider and followed at his leisure. He knew that Dumbledore would be demanding answers with McGonagall and Snape hovering in the background ready with disapproval and snide remarks.

Too bad for them that they didn't deserve answers. Who did they think they were? Merlin incarnate? Ha!

This was going to be amusing.

000

**PART THREE:** Live Our Lives in Chains

Blank eyes stared directly at Dumbledore, mind shields at full strength. Hands were folded gracefully upon his lap. Feet were flat on the floor with his knees lightly pressed up against one another. His back was straight, his head tilted slightly in affected innocence. His usually mobile mouth was a line slashed across the lower half of his face. He had no expression besides attentive. Harry James Potter was the very image a calm, rational, aristocratic student whose worries didn't include Dark Lords or scolding, demanding Headmasters.

Severus Snape was a little discombobulated by the change.

Without his hideous glasses and cherubic curls instead of a rat's nest for hair, the Potter boy looked more like his mother than his wretched father. He hada natural tan that one couldn't get in England without the help of cosmetic charms or a Muggle tanning bed. In fact, if Snape could hazard a guess, the teen had been in the tropics… Broader shoulders. High cheekbones. Almond shaped eyes that were the same color as the Killing Curse. The boy was steady, unyielding even to Dumbledore's superior skills in Legilimency.

And still Dumbledore continued to try and cajole Potter into answering his questions. Tried guilt. Didn't work. Tried demands. Didn't work. Tried reiterating about the Greater Good. Didn't work. It was like hitting one's head against a brick wall. And through it all, Potter was as silent as death. He was almost as still as a statue; only his slow, even breathing was an indicator that he was even alive. Snape noticed that his fellow Head of House looked like she was going to burst a vein. The greasy haired wizard hadn't been this enteratained in ages.

Finally Snape grew tired of hearing his master from the Light talk at the boy wizard. He inserted himself into the one-sided conversation.

"It's obvious the boy isn't going to talk," Snape said smoothly, his beetle black eyes regarding the aforementioned boy with cool interest.

"Now Severus…" Dumbledore tried to interject.

"Detention, Potter. With me, Saturday tomorrow at noon." He narrowed his eyes when he saw a small flash of amusement in the boy's eyes. "Until supper," he finished with a hiss.

Potter tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Yes, sir," he finally spoke. "May I be excused? It's been a long day."

Dumbledore tried to look benevolent when he waved the boy off. Snape was surprised when Potter sketched a quick bow and sauntered out of the office. As soon as the stairwell carried him away and the gargoyle closed him out, McGonagall burst into a rant. The Potions Master didn't bother to actually listen to the old woman. No, his thoughts were with the younger wizard that had just left.

Slytherin curiosity plagued Snape for the rest of the night.

000

Harry sighed in frustration. Figures McGonagall wouldn't have the decency to at least give him the password to the Gryffs' Tower. Ah well, whatever. He would sent a note to a Third Year, little Horace Robinson, that he was staying elsewhere for the night and to not worry. Besides, he still had his trunk with him and his carry-on could be given to him by a house-elf.

With a soft whistling tune, the brunet walked off to the Come and Go Room. From there he would ask for a private bedroom and call for Dobby to deliver that note. The house-elf was always so eager to help. Though often his definition of help and Harry's own tended to not see eye-to-eye. The boy savior huffed out a laugh at the reprieve that the detention with Snape would bring.

Let's see how long Harry could play 'dodge the idiots'.

000

There a toad in pink ruffles within his sights. A glint of cursed gold winked from the folds of skin underneath her wide chin.

Cloud wanted to gag at the sheer volume of lace and silk. There was just no accounting for good taste. Goddess, killing such an abomination would make the world a better place. This was one of the people that had tortured his charge with that nasty Blood Quill. The blond narrowed his glowing eyes as this amphibious-like female scuttled into Knockturn Alley. Well now, she had just made the hunt easier for him. No one would care about one more scream echoing into the night.

The cloaked swordsman flowed back into the shadows as he followed her. His boots were silent. He sunk deep into feral, Jenova-influenced instinct. Finally, that space bitch was good for something. A dark, Sephiroth-like smile crossed his lips. His blue eyes flashed green and brighter than before. A few of the denizens of Knockturn saw that sickly green glow from where one could approximate where his eyes were beneath the deep hood of his cloak. Others could smell the danger emitting from deep within the shadows. They made themselves disappear back into the woodworks like rabbits back into their warrens. The few that had no senses or instincts were oblivious to that one fact that made everyone else fear:

There was a new predator amongst them.

000

**PART FOUR:** He Was Ruthless

Dawn caressed the horizon as the sun rose in the east. The sky was colored crimson and pink, the purple of the night fading away.

"Red sky in the morning, sailor's warning," Harry muttered himself as he watched that solar orb ascend further up into the heavens. Of course the saying was referring to a storm at sea but the young wizard took it beyond that. He had a feeling that blood had been spilled the night before though he did not know who did the deed. Perhaps it was better if he didn't know…

With a cup of tea cradled in his hands, the brunet slipped out of the Room of Requirement. He had until noon to begin his search for that elusive Horcrux and then he had to put it on pause for his Saturday detention with Snape. He also wondered about Cloud's own endeavors with the Horcruxes outside of Hogwarts.

It would be later in the year that Harry would hit himself once he realized that his objective had been in the same room he had spent the night in, that first night at Hogwarts.

000

The ruby colored rays of the Saturday morning sun crept up over the tops of the skyscrapers of London.

Deep within an alley that was just outside of a secondary entrance to Knockturn, untouched yet by daylight, a cloaked figure knelt. A hand encased in midnight black leather dug into the pile of pink before him and when it withdrew a gaudy, golden locket with a jewel-encrusted 'S' on the front swung in clenched fingers. Drops of blood temporarily marred the gold. The evil trinket was stuffed into a Magic-Muffler Bag and the bag was shoved into a pocket beneath the cloak. Cloud Strife stood from his crouch and stepped back to survey the remains of the toad-whore at his feet. His seven-bladed sword was embedded upright straight into the pavement, blood dripped down along the metal and into the crevices of the release mechanisms. He would have to clean those later, Cloud noted absently as he eyed the corpse.

Dolores Umbridge was a crimson stained heap of pink lace and ruffles upon the concrete. A pool of blood grew slowly beneath her, half of it soaking into the rest of her garments. Her pudgy limbs were warped in odd and painful looking angles. Her hands were twisted backwards as were her feet. A giant sword slash, courtesy of the First Tsurugi, bisected her torso from her left shoulder to her wide, right hip; nearly cut in half. Cloud could have cut her in half actually. If he had felt like it. But a bloodthirsty voice deep inside of him demanded he draw it out. Unsurprisingly it had sounded a bit like a Jenova-possessed Sephiroth conjured from his memory. For once, Cloud indulged himself in the dark pleasure of tearing her apart. Umbridge hadn't deserved a merciful death. So the blond immortal channeled his anger into her body with violence. Cut out her tongue to muffle her screams. Ripped her squinty eyes out of their sockets.

Carved the words 'I must not tell lies' across her chest.

The tangy, copper-laced scent of blood filled his nostrils. It mixed with the smell of pollution and of urine and feces that Umbridge had loosed, her bowels failing her underneath Cloud's onslaught. And now she was dead and it was no use mutilating a corpse. The Gaia-born immortal dug a hand into his pocket as he ripped his sword free from the concrete. He knew that he had to leave. With a content hum, he whipped out an Exit Materia. He channeled his will and MP into the orb. And with First Tsurugi in hand, he disappeared in a flash of Mako-green light. He had to find the little shit that had sold Slytherin's Locket to her anyway. After all, he had watched the transaction himself the previous afternoon. Fletcher, the traitorous thief, was a dead man. And then he would destroy the locket Horcrux.

Cloud left the body to be found by the next person to exit Knockturn.

000

Mundungus Fletcher felt a shiver down his spine. The thief hunched in on himself. It had felt like someone had just walked across his yet to be dug grave. He scurried farther into Knockturn. His head was down though his gaze peered up from beneath his dirty fringe of hair. He had to leave London. Hell, maybe even flee the country.

Too bad that he didn't take into account the fact that Cloud wouldn't let him get away that day. And just as dusk turned into night, Fletcher was dragged into a different deserted alley and killed. He wasn't tortured though and that was the only mercy the immortal had been willing to give him.

The dawn after had been just as red as the one that had heralded Umbridge's last breath.

000

Yule was just around the corner and Harry still hadn't found Ravenclaw's fucking diadem.

Harry was also tired to playing 'blow off my sycophantic former friends and soul-sucking fan-people'. Though playing the Silent Game with his professors was still a hoot. Snape was watching him, however, with curiosity. That meant that Harry had been extra careful with his sneaking about at night in order to not get caught by him or Filch. For now, he was once again holed up in an empty classroom, Marauder's Map folded in his pocket with his invisibility cloak. The wizard barely slept in the Tower anymore. He always found a place to camp out in considering how vast a castle Hogwarts was; so it was full of good hiding places. And with the invisibility cloak, Harry was protected from the prying eyes of the portraits and ghosts. Peeves didn't seem to care either way but he was a perpetrator of chaos so he made a good ally, like he had been against Umbridge.

The boy shook his head to get himself back on track.

Horcrux hunting was a serious business.

But where would Voldemort hide that damned thing? Obviously the first place he had looked was the Chamber of Secrets after gaining Myrtle's word of honor not to tell a soul: living, painted, or dead. It had taken him several evenings to clear out the rubble from Lockhart's failed Oblivate spell. But his work had been for naught. Though he did get quite a fortune's worth of basilisk parts. Apparently its body was so poisonous that it wouldn't break down. It helped that the Chamber was cold and damp. It was like a giant refrigerator. He had sent those to the goblins to put in his vault for a fee of twenty-one galleons, barely a drop on the Potter money bucket.

Anyway, Harry then systematically began to check every floor. It was slow going even with the Map. Dodging authority figures, gossiping portraits, and nosy ghosts was hard work and yet the young Savior was still empty handed. It was frustrating. Add on the fact that Malfoy junior was acting decidedly odd, not that Harry had any room to talk, and he was feeling stress at new levels. He missed Sirius so much. Still no word from Remus too, who was probably still under Dumbledore's thumb and grieving.

Harry missed Cloud most of all.

The boy wizard wanted to hear his voice. He wanted reassurance from an adult for once. Cloud had a lot of Harry's trust. All of it, actually. Cloud was his mentor and friend. His rock after the loss of Sirius. Harry wanted to go back to Mideel. He wanted to go back to that cottage by the sea. He wanted back amongst the Chocobos in the stable.

Harry wanted to go home.

Harry's eyes hardened in resolve. He would find that diadem, goddamn it. He'd find the fucking thing, destroy it in the Chamber just for the irony, and then he would abandon Hogwarts. The castle had been his first true home, yes. But it had come with conditions. Harry was done. Done! No more fucking around.

The Boy-Who-Should-Be-A-Martyr hopped to his feet. He took the Map out and activated it. He began to think whilst eyeing the moving dots. Now then, if he were Voldemort, where would he hide his Horcrux…

Dear Merlin, how stupid was he? Tom Marvolo Riddle was a genius who had probably explored Hogwarts like Harry. He had probably found the one place where one could stash anything.

The Room of Requirement.

Harry would have to sneak in and soon.

000

Draco Malfoy nervously exhaled as he sorted through the books he had gotten from the Restricted Section. He had to fix that cabinet in the Come and Go Room no matter the personal cost. There was so little time. There wasn't room for anymore mistakes in the Malfoy name. Unseemly sweat trickled down the side of his pointy face as he searched for a solution to the broken Vanishing Cabinet.

Voldemort held his parents' fates in his spidery, pale hands.

000

**END OF CHAPTER TWO**


	3. The Night Is Over and Take A Bow

**Off Course****: The Delivery Boy and the Boy Savior**

_**AN:**__ Final Chapter and the Epilogue, everybody!*iz sad but happy*_

_Shout out to Eric Kripke and his show, Supernatural. Go watch that shit. It's made of epic win._

000

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing! Nothing, I say.

Non Crisis Core compliant. Non HBP/DH compliant (especially that awful Epilogue… If I wanted that kind of shit, I'd watch a Disney movie…) with references to certain plotlines.

WARNINGS: **Language**, minor character death, previous time-travel, inter-dimensional travel, swords and guns, gods, goddesses, aftermath of extreme child abuse (brief), violence, gore, blood, torture (mentioned), angst, magic, mentorship, and, last but not least, twisted, twisted humor at inappropriate times. And some slash-y undertones, but you can ignore them.

000

**CHAPTER THREE:**** The Night Is Over**

**PART ONE: **Ain't No Way to Hide Your Lying Eyes

Friendship was a fragile thing. Yes, one could draw great strength from it. But in the end, it could be easily broken like glass smashed against stone. It could be lost with a single lie. Withered from neglect. Yet it was betrayal that could shatter friendship into pieces so small that not even tweezers or magic could pick up the pieces. And so Harry Potter no longer had friends amongst the wizards and witches of Hogwarts. Too many hurts and too many lies. It was too late to apologize, even if there were others who didn't or didn't want to realize.

Luna Lovegood knew, oh she knew, that Harry's friendship was lost to them. She looked up at her boyfriend, Neville Longbottom, with sad blue eyes.

"Luna?" Neville queried softly.

"Our flame will be leaving us soon," the blonde girl said, for once sounding semi-lucid. "He is a phoenix reborn from the ashes." She shook her head, her radish earrings swaying in time with the motion. "The Nargles are weeping, Neville."

"It's his choice, Lu. We let him down." The brown-eyed boy hunched his shoulders a little in shame. "But at least we're not like Hermione and Ron."

"Poor consolation, beloved."

000

Gryffindor was boycotting him, Ron just knew it.

This wasn't supposed to be like this! He, Ronald Weasley, was supposed to be praised for managing to survive Harry's friendship. That boy was a danger. A danger! But he needed that friendship in order to pave the way to greatness. He wanted to finally surpass his brothers by using that green-eyed bastard. The redhead seethed as another Gryff snubbed him by refusing to play chess. Sore losers, the lot of them! And now he no longer had Potter to use as a buffer against Hermione's nagging and whinging.

Merlin's saggy left nut, the stupid bint never gave him any peace.

This was all Harry Potter's fault.

000

With a sneer, Harry Potter left Hermione Granger behind without a word despite her shrieking and false promises. He hadn't spoken a single utterance to her at all this year. Not even to pass the butter since he never sat with his own year-mates.

The Muggleborn girl was completely frustrated. Didn't he know that she knew what was best for him? That silly, impulsive boy! Hadn't she always pulled him out of the fire? Hadn't she always done his research for him? Harry Potter owed her everything. She huffed and hurried off in an effort to follow him.

"HARRY! WAIT UP, HARRY!" Granger screeched. A group of Slytherin girls watched in disgust at the brunette Gryffindor's uncouth behavior. They huddled together to speak in low tones.

"She has no shame. Good on Potter for leaving her dirty, mudblood self behind," one of the Slyth girls said to the group.

"About time he saw through them," another chimed in.

"The teachers are in quite a tizzy. Have been all year."

"Best entertainment to be had since that fiasco with the Chamber of Secrets."

000

"Potter, a word," McGonagall called just as class ended. She threw a look at Ron and Hermione and they left quickly.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry raised his eyebrows in question. "Is it about my classwork?"

"Oh… er, well no…"

"Homework?"

"No…"

"How may I help you then?"

"Your friends, Mr. Potter-"

"Are not your concern, _Professor_," Harry interrupted coolly, stressing her title and thus her 'relationship' with him as only his teacher. There was no way in hell that this witch was his mother-figure. Nor was she his confidant. "If your concern is not related to my academic performance, then you have no say whatsoever about my personal business. Good day." Harry clicked his heels, sketched a quick bow, and strode out of the classroom with his bag slung over his shoulder.

"TWENTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry negligently waved his hand in the air as he disappeared from view.

Like he gave a shite…

000

Severus Snape was a man who hated mysteries. Intrigued by them, yes. But he hated them nonetheless. And what happens? The biggest mystery of all just drops into Hogwarts.

Harry James Potter.

That boy just waltzes back into Hogwarts without anyone ever having a clue. He throws the staff into disarray. He manages time and again to escape all efforts to being cornered. He ignores the constant questioning. His academics are much improved.

Worst of all?

The precocious brat piqued Snape's curiosity.

Detentions were useless. Lines were useless. Nothing worked to make the boy crack. He would just smile, say 'yes sir', and set about doing his assigned task. His mind shields were also impenetrable, which was severely irritating. Snape was going mad from the urge to know what had changed and what had happened to force that change.

How sad that Severus Snape would never know the answers to the mystery of Harry Potter.

000

Poor Harry, he was about ready to rip his hair out in anger. These people were driving him batty! Tonight, fuck it all! He had to get that diadem tonight before the term break or else he was going to do Voldemort's job for him and burn down the castle.

A First Year Hufflepuff squeaked in terror as Harry Potter stalked past through the corridors with murder glaring out his Killing-Curse green eyes.

000

**PART TWO: **Such An Angry Young Man

The Room of Requirement. The Come and Go Room. The Wisher's Room.

It had many names, many functions.

The Room would bear witness to one last confrontation between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

Tomorrow morning, many students would be leaving for Yule Break. A few would stay behind. But Harry had no intention of staying in the Magical World at all beyond tomorrow morning. He was coming for that Horcrux tonight and then during Yule Voldemort was going to breathe his last. Or at least, that was the plan. Cloud still hadn't destroyed Nagini. Anyway, it was too bad that Draco Malfoy was headed for the same destination this same night.

Supper ended and Harry ducked into an alcove. From there he hurried off to the seventh floor to the spot of wall across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy with his dancing trolls. He needed to think of a place that would be perfect to hide things. He paced back and forth and when the door appeared, he jumped inside, closing the door behind him. He frowned at the towering piles of junk and shelves filled with odds and ends. He went deep into the room, never noticing someone else entering.

Finally Harry saw the strangest thing. It was a bust of an ugly old warlock on a high placed, free floating shelf. On its scalp sat a dusty wig of indeterminate color and upon its brow was a tarnished tiara. It was the tiara that called out with the stench of foul Dark Magic and a sense of was-but-wasn't-Voldemort. Quickly the wizard pulled on a pair of black dragon hide gloves and produced a Magic-Muffler Bag exactly like Cloud's, a gift from the Goddess. He snatched the bust with its wig and cursed tiara and delved even deeper into the room of junk. He spotted a table and swiped it clear. A noisy clatter sounded as the junk fell off. He set his prize down.

Harry set about taking the tiara off.

000

Draco Malfoy crept into the room, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw no-one there. He closed the door and the portal finally vanished. Tucked under his arm was a Dark Arts Book from his godfather's personal library. He quickly spotted the broken Vanishing Cabinet and hurried over to it. He studied the cabinet with critical gray eyes. The blond boy took out his wand and opened the book with his free hand. Just as he was about to start casting, a loud clatter of falling objects echoed from further in the room. Draco dropped his book and whirled around with his wand raised in panic. Oh Merlin, that was why the door was already there with the Junk Room…

Someone must be trying to hide something important.

Someone was in here with him.

The blond boy kicked Snape's book closed and left it on the floor for now. Wand in hand, Draco tried to melt into the shadows with the bare minimum of success. He wound himself through the precariously stacked piles of junk. His ears were straining for any sounds other than his own breathing. Soon enough he stumbled upon the edge of a cleared space with a table in the center and a person with unmistakable hair.

Potter.

Now then, the young Malfoy scion was an observant sort. Obnoxious but observant. He had noticed the severe changes within the Boy Wonder. The brunet had become an expert at dodging his so-called friends and the goody-two shoe professors on the staff that had a vested interest in his rival. He had become secretive, not that Draco had room to talk, and cold-eyed. There was a purpose filled aura surrounding the Golden Boy of Hogwarts. Though his golden status seemed a bit tarnished around the edges. And whatever that purpose was, Potter had finally seemed to have found it here in this room, which also held Draco's own project.

"Hello, Malfoy," Potter called.

Draco was startled as his school-yard rival turned around. "Potter," he said, unknowing of what to actually say for once. They stared at one another; intense, bright viridian eyes clashed with eyes the color of mercury and quicksilver. "What are you doing?"

"I found what I was searching for, of course," the other boy said coolly. "And you?"

"My business."

"As is this." Potter gestured at the odd bust of an ugly warlock. There was an even odder smirk on his face.

"A bust of Aldrich the Hideous Weirdo?" Draco raised a sardonic eyebrow.

"Oh, is that who that is?" The Gryffindor shrugged at him, that strange little smirk still spreading his thin lips. "It was actually on his head…"

"That wig wouldn't suit you at all," the blond quipped. His stomach did an odd flip-flop at the crinkles of mirth that gathered at the corners of Potter's almond-shaped eyes. It was maddening that Draco was noticing how nicely shaped those exotic eyes were and he gulped subtly.

Potter stared searchingly at him and then spoke softly. "Surprisingly enough, you'll be the one I'll miss most, Malfoy," he said.

Draco's brow wrinkled in consternation. "What in Merlin's name are you talking about, Scarhead?" he snapped in return.

"Throughout the years you are the only one in my acquaintance that stayed true to yourself and to hell with anyone else." A chuckle burst from Potter's smirking lips. "Maybe… I should have taken your hand that first year."

The Slytherin groped for words to respond to such a peculiar statement. "Have you gone mad?" he finally blurted out.

"I think so, yes. Look at us; we're actually having a civil conversation. Listen, Malfoy; whatever business you have here, I don't care. If you bring down the very stones of this castle on Dumbledore's head, I don't care." Potter shook his head. A fevered light entered his sharp green eyes. "I'm leaving, Malfoy. This so-called war? I'm gonna finish it, so it doesn't matter to me what you're doing in the Room of Requirement."

"And if I try to stop you?" Draco nearly dropped his wand when Potter pointed a strange, silver weapon at him, drawn from the small of his back. A clicking sound came from it as Potter's thumb pressed down on a mechanism.

"I plant a piece of lead into your brain with this, right between your eyes. So, I suggest you listen to your Slytherin survival instincts and step aside."

And Potter was right, his instincts were screaming at him to get out of the way. And so Draco followed his gut feeling and did a side-step to clear the way to the exit. The brunet put away his weapon, tucking in up underneath his robe and oxford shirt. "Potter!" he called just before the other boy disappeared from sight.

Potter stopped but didn't turn around. "Hmm?" he replied wordlessly.

"The Dark Lord wants me to kill Dumbledore."

"Is that right?" Potter turned his head a little to look over his shoulder. "I hope you succeed then, Malfoy. No skin off my back." And he sauntered away.

At the front of the room, Draco heard the door, which had obviously appeared again, slam shut. The sound echoed a little. He realized one thing in the cold silence left in Potter's wake.

That was going to be the last time Draco Malfoy would ever see Harry Potter in person.

000

**PART THREE: **This Jig Is Up

Cloud patiently waited in the shadows of the branches in the trees. The forests behind Riddle Manor were the favored hunting ground of Nagini, despite the cold of the winter. Thankfully there wasn't yet snow on the ground, else this wouldn't work. Most snakes would already be hibernating but she obviously wasn't. That made hunting her a little easier even though it was night. Glowing blue eyes were hooded in an effort to minimize their shine. It wouldn't do to give himself away so easily.

The dry, soft sound of scales moving across dead leaves echoed up into Cloud's ultra-sensitive ears. He stared down at Nagini's moving form. He crouched on the branch that he occupied. The edge of his blade, number four of First Tsurugi, was coated with basilisk venom provided by Harry.

There!

Cloud fell silently from the branches like an avenging angel, blade pointed down. As he landed with boots on either side of the sinuous body of the serpent, the sword separated Nagini's head from her corpse. Her body wriggled in violent death throws, her jaws snapping even in death. A few moments passed and all movement ceased. Cloud's head perked up when he heard Voldemort's howl of agony even through the Manor's wards. A cold smile crossed the blond's lips. With of flick of his hand, a bracer with a Fire material equipped on his wrist, the dead serpent burst into magical flames. Again Cloud employed his Exit Materia to escape just a Death Eaters crashed through the brush in search for Voldemort's now dead Horcrux.

Snow started to fall from the heavens.

Nagini's ashes blew across the forest floor with a winter's breeze.

Merry Christmas, you filthy animal.

000

Triumphant and smug, Harry Potter sauntered through Kings' Cross. He was dressed in the black denims covering his slim legs, a dark green t-shirt peeking out from his open leather jacket. A silver scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck. The strap to his carry-on was slung across his torso like a messenger bag, slapping lightly against his thigh as he walked. The boy wizard was perky, bouncy, and even whistling. He had the London Times tucked under his arm. Just a few hours earlier, before dawn, he had snuck into the Chamber of Secrets, fried the diadem with Fiendfyre, and then danced straight out of Hogwarts without anyone the wiser. Through the front door even.

In three days, Muggles would be celebrating Christmas. And he planned on killing Voldemort as a Yule present to himself on that day. But for now, he would relish his freedom in Muggle London and then meet up with Cloud in Hyde Park at the Albert Memorial later in the evening.

This was his first time in London for pleasure, so Harry would play tourist. But where would he go? What would he see? So many possibilities were open despite the winter season.

Perhaps he would go the Sherlock Holmes Museum for giggles and from there he would visit Regent's Park to go boating for a bit if the lake wasn't frozen over…

000

Voldemort was having a nervous breakdown.

Seriously.

Nagini was dead, first of all. Why he had put a piece of his soul willingly into a living, _mortal_ creature, one would never know. Well, he was an insane, sociopathic megalomaniac with delusions of grandeur and dreams of world domination. He was also obsessed with a teenage boy like a dirty, perverted pedophile. Plus, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord was pasty-faced, had hands like icky spiders, and smelled like the reptile house at the zoo. Furthermore, Voldemort had no nose, which probably explained the odd way he breathed. He was probably also a virgin. But let's not get into that…

The second reason was related to the fact that Nagini was dead. Voldemort couldn't sense his Horcruxes anymore and he definitely couldn't sense the Potter boy even after his reappearance in the Magical World. He had sent his most trusted out to retrieve his soul pieces only to have his minions fail spectacularly, in which they then paid the price by dying under his wand. His keys to immortality were gone, vanished. Destroyed.

Voldemort thus had good reason for a panic attack.

000

Cloud was having a good morning today.

This whole thing with the Dark Lord was nearly over. He got to get rid of several people that had hurt Harry, though unfortunately not the main culprits. But he would be taking care of the Dursleys next. That was why he had asked Harry to send him the invisibility cloak last night. He had received the valuable object along with the news that Ravenclaw's Diadem was a pile of ashes in the Chamber of Secrets. Now the blond immortal had until his meeting up with Harry in the evening to finish up these three loose ends.

The swordsman ducked into the park and hid behind a tree. He twirled the invisibility cloak around to cover himself. Cloud then quickly made his way to number Four of Privet Drive where all three members of the Dursley family were together for breakfast. With a Materia, he cast a silencing bubble over the whole house. Then he placed a ward stone that maintained the bubble and prevented the nosy neighbors from seeing anything. Once that was done, it was safe to take off the cloak for now.

No one had seen him on Privet Drive thanks to that cloak, which meant that there would be no witnesses that needed to be killed. A blood-thirsty grin crossed Cloud's lips. He removed his sword from its harness. His eyes glowed green. Cloud entered the house through the front entrance after kicking down the door.

Screams of pain and terror never reached the ears of the surrounding neighbors.

The dead bodies went unnoticed and unreported until after New Year's Day. And only because of the smell. The Muggle police scratched their heads over that fact that they found no physical evidence that pertained to the perpetrator. The swordsman was a thorough sort of person; that Turk training from Vincent and Reno really paid off. How unfortunate that the case of the Dursley family murder would remain unsolved and locked away in the cold case cabinet.

Their souls burned in perdition.

000

**PART FOUR:** Hangman Is Coming Down From the Gallows

Christmas Day morning was beautiful. Snow covered the imperfections of the outside world. It hid away the ugliness of humanity's touch on nature. The air was crisp and scented with frost and pine. The snow crunched pleasantly beneath booted feet. The world seemed clean and bright.

And if Harry had anything to say about it, the world was going to become a whole lot cleaner and brighter with Voldemort permanently dead.

Harry and Cloud slipped in underneath the wards surrounding Riddle Manor. The blond of the duo quickly took the lead. It was his job to keep the Death Eaters occupied and to kill them as they came out. He was fairly indestructible and invulnerable to the Killing Curse; thanks to the number Hojo had done on him so long ago. So he would go in, sword swinging and Materia blazing, while Harry would sneak in and off Voldemort. Cloud sighed. Goddess, he was getting too old for this crap.

"Ready?" Harry hissed in his ear.

"Yeah."

"Hey, a favor? Or well, several actually."

"Sure, Harry. What is it?"

"Find Pettigrew. Prevent him from escaping. Break his spirit. Destroy his body. Make him wish he had never heard the name Potter."

"You got it, Harry."

000

Severus Snape had a bad feeling today. But he ignored the feeling for the potion brewing on his work table. It was an order from the Dark Lord for some nefarious purpose that he had already reported to Dumbledore. Still, that premonition persisted in the back of his mind for all of this Christmas morning.

And it was in the teachers' lounge after breakfast that the Dark Mark disappeared in the most painful manner possible right off of Snape's arm.

The Potions Master fell to his knees, keening in agony. Teachers scurried about in a panic like head-less chickens. McGonagall was bellowing for Madame Pomfrey while Dumbledore actually knelt down by the convulsing wizard in an effort to hold him down and prevent him from biting through his tongue until Poppy's arrival. Despite Snape being thin, he was strong and his muscles were being augmented by adrenaline; so Dumbledore had a hard time of restraining him even with magic.

Poppy arrived in a flurry of white robes. She brandished her wand and cast a few spells to ease Snape into unconsciousness. Kneeling at the wizard's side, opposite of the Headmaster, she reached down to Snape's left forearm. Strangely enough, the fabric was soaked in dark liquid. The rows of buttons were quickly undone and his flesh revealed.

The Dark Mark was gone, the magic destroyed and the black ink dripping out from Snape's pores.

000

During Snape's episode, Draco Malfoy was having his own. He was curled up into a ball of pain on his bed in the Slytherin dorm. The blond boy cradled his left forearm against his stomach. Silent sobs wracked his body as a miniature seizure tore across his muscles. His Dark Mark throbbed like a poisoned wound. It felt like little barbed hooks were being torn out from inside of his arm. And then the pain faded and, with shaking hands, the young wizard pushed up his pajama sleeve and stared.

Black ink dribbled out of his pores where the Mark once stained his skin. Taking a corner of his bed coverings, Draco wiped the ink away. He started to laugh hysterically, fat tears of relief rolling down his face.

Fucking Potter. Finish it indeed.

000

_Earlier That Morning Back at Riddle Manor_

Harry silently closed the study door behind him. His mortal enemy stared at him in shock. It brought a smile to the boy wizard's face.

"Harry Potter, so you have come."

"Don't bother with your minions, Tom." Harry's smile was wide, uncannily so. "I've already had someone take care of them."

"A duel then, Potter? Just you and me? How quaint." Voldemort had his wand aimed for Harry's unblemished forehead. "Perhaps I shall give you a new scar, boy."

"Oh? After what happened the last time you gave me a scar on my forehead? Get some originality, Tom." Without warning, Harry pulled out his gun, a Quicksilver, and unloaded a round of consecrated iron bullets into Voldemort's chest.

The Dark Lord stumbled back. He stared down at his chest in shock. Blood oozed out from the smoking wounds. The snake-faced man coughed, more crimson fluid staining his lips and dripping down his chin. "Wha…" His body jerked as one last bullet was shot into his head. He collapsed into a heap on the expensive but ragged Persian rug.

Harry started whistling as he dug out a canister of rock salt from his little ninja pack at his waist that was enhanced with Wizard Space. He salted Voldemort's corpse like he was going to be Sunday dinner. And then he got out the lighter fluid and bathed his dead enemy in it. The teen flicked out his wand from his wrist holster.

With a smile and a manic giggle, the Boy-Who-Lived set Voldemort aflame.

Harry danced out of the study.

000

Wormtail scrunched himself into a corner. It was no use trying to transform into his rat-self. There was something blocking his ability. Instead he was left staring at a demon with the face of an angel and the glowing green eyes of a monster. Those awful, awful eyes glowed brighter, pupils narrowing into slits. A horrible smile stretched the demon's lips. The traitor wet himself.

"Hello, Peter," the demon purred.

Peter Pettigrew started to weep in earnest.

The demon's impossible looking sword gleamed in the candlelight of the smallest bedroom in the manor. The blood from the other Death Eaters was black, so thick was it on the metal.

It took a long time for Pettigrew to die at the demon's leather encased hands.

000

**EPILOGUE**: **Take A Bow**

The day of New Year's Eve was ushered in by Harry with enthusiasm. The brunet wizard was having the time of his life in London, waiting for the countdown to begin this evening. Currently he was sitting in a café with Cloud. Streams of people flowed in the streets. Laughter and pops from noisemakers filled the air. People called out to wish someone a happy New Year. Freedom and joy seemed to pulsate out from the younger man's chest.

"Easy there, Harry. You'll vibrate straight out your seat," Cloud said from behind his newspaper. He set it down to pick up his latte.

Trying to cease his bouncing without success, Harry grinned widely. "I'm just so happy!" he proclaimed. A sly smirk replaced the grin on his face. "Will you kiss me at midnight?"

Cloud choked on his coffee.

000

Evening fell across the heavens and midnight crept ever closer.

The streets of London were packed with throngs of shouting, cheerful people; that exact scene emulated in each major city across the globe.

The Goddess, invisible and hidden from all senses, snuck up behind Harry and Cloud as the final countdown began.

_Ten_

_Nine_

_Eight_

"A gift," the Goddess whispered in their ears. They stiffened in surprise.

_Seven_

_Six_

_Five_

Harry's body jolted as Her hands cupped his temples.

_Four_

_Three_

The wizard turned toward Cloud, green eyes glowing from Her gift. "A home. Forever with you…" he breathed out.

_Two_

_One_

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" the people around them screamed. Couples kissed as fireworks burst in the air above the city.

Harry and Cloud were locked in an embrace, laughing.

_See, everything's alright now._

000

The headlines across the Wizarding papers screamed out with big, thick letters. Dumbledore buried his head in his un-cursed hand in the privacy of his office. His other hand, the one slowly killing him, throbbed in time with his heart. He had failed and his plans lay in ruins at his feet.

Voldemort was dead and his manor burned to the ground.

Though Snape and young Malfoy were free, the other Death Eaters were dead as well, either in their homes or crisped up with Riddle Manor.

And while there should be celebrations, Hogwarts was solemn and the castle herself accusing. The students who had returned, which were few in number, were silent as a grave. The younger students, mainly the First, Second, and Third Years, of Gryffindor Tower were huddled together, always glaring at the Headmaster or at Harry Potter's former friends.

And the reason why Dumbledore knew that he failed? Harry Potter had publicly denounced him and then disappeared all together after telling the Magical World to 'kiss my white, skinny arse'.

Several of those same headlines went as followed:

_VOLDEMORT DESTROYED; TESTIMONY FROM HARRY POTTER_

_HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AGAINST WIZARDING WORLD'S NEGLECT_

_MANOR OF EVIL GOES UP IN FLAMES: The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-A-Pyro_

_VOTE OF NO CONFIDENCE IN FUDGE_

_INVESTIGATIONS AGAINST HOGWARTS: Overhaul in Staff and Curriculum to be Discussed_

_DUMBLEDORE'S RETIREMENT DEMANDED: Too Many Lemon Drops?_

_BOY OR WEAPON? How Dumbledore and The Wizarding World Short-Changed Harry Potter_

Albus Too-Many-Middle-Names Dumbledore was so screwed.

000

The Chocobo cooed in delight as her master preened her black feathers. The small, black feathered young was humming as he worked. In return, the giant bird set about trying to tame the little fledgling's own messy feathers.

Harry Potter laughed at her and played along. "Others have tried and failed to tame my curls, girl," he said as she let out a wark. From the rafters of the stable, Hedwig watched in amusement as her fellow avian tried to do what the owl herself couldn't.

"Harry!" Cloud called from outside of the stable, the tropical sun beating down on his golden head. "I've made lunch!"

"Alright!" the brunet shouted back. He smiled up at the Chocobo. "Well, Betty, how about a run after lunch?" At her affirmative wark, the wizard patted her wing and exited the stall. Harry stepped out into the bright, Mideel sunshine. Cloud was waving him over to the cottage from the backdoor. The now immortal wizard smiled brightly.

It was good to be home.

**000**

**END OF THE DELIVERY BOY AND THE BOY SAVIOR**

EDIT: Just I just wanted my slash reading people to know that I just posted a Cloud/Harry smut pairing on my LiveJournal. If slash is not your cup of tea, don't bother reading. And I've put up the adult filter. Just go to my profile here and click on my homepage to be directed to my LiveJournal. And thanks everybody for reading this and my other stories! Love ya, bye! XD


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